This blankness is so known. I know you, I have known you for a long time. So reminiscent of my past. It constituted of poetry and blogs and wistful sighs. This was a phase, yes? What are you doing here now?
I am so dissociated I can’t feel the pain. I know I should cry or something, and I also know that I can do it. Here’s how it will go: I will put on my headphones and open my once-forgotten Soundcloud list. And I will turn on those old songs, that were each about this last phase. The blogging phase. The infatuation and the pining and the very emotional phase.
The songs will bring me back to that ‘dark’ sacred place. Which is not dark as in negative, but a mystical place I used to write about in my poems and prose. A place where I met Me. Or You? Us.
But I don’t want to listen to songs at the moment. I might give in to the temptation or direct my attention completely elsewhere. Painting would be productive but the issue is it won’t make me feel.
Is it worth it that you can’t feel pain when it also means you can’t feel joy?
And it’s not like I can’t feel any pain or that I haven’t cried in ages or what. I cried today morning only. Also perhaps yesterday or day before. You know how it is. But I am talking about THIS thing.
I’m not overwhelmed, promise. I’m more than ever trying to be kinder and adjusting to the process: awareness, sit with it, nourish or nurture. Don’t avoid. Don’t distract. And come out stronger, yah?
Ni sayyun asa naina di akhay laggay ni sayyun asa naina di akhhay lagay.
Painting bhi banai thi na is pe. Spiritual Sufi type song hai. Not that I’m recommending a listen. Gunah e jaariya bilawajah.
I found this “hack” in Sufi songs. As if this music was allowed. These songs were okay. But you know the spiral effect, right? It starts and it takes you wherever. Also c’mon this isn’t a Majlis.
Am I talking to you again? I should not; how many times have I written for you. Blasphemy.
Blasphemy because you don’t deserve it. You’re bad enough as is, won’t let this be a pat on your ego.
And returning to myself. Isn’t it amazing how you are the master of your thoughts? You can choose where your attention goes.
My attention at the moment is on these words. I can’t tell you where else. Had to erase because privacy.
But I did call a friend yesterday and told her about things. Not because I wanted to share, honestly I was barely feeling my own story, but because she knew someone who could help.
It felt selfish as I thanked her for being the only one I had confided in. She said it felt nice to talk after so long. I want to remind her today to talk to the person who can help but you know how when you ask help without asking for help and then have to pave a way around it? Wow, sucks. And what if she read this!
I would think she wouldn’t. I know they’re all really busy. And also nothing is the same anymore.
It’s like loadshedding but in my mind. 💡
La lala lala. Should I keep writing or should I stay thinking? Is this even helping?